


JxHQ: The Funny Side

by MetallicJester



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Crazy Harleen Quinzel, F/M, Harleen Quinzel Backstory, Harleen Quinzel Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetallicJester/pseuds/MetallicJester
Summary: An unexpected visit from the Clown Princeof Crime leaves Dr Harleen Quinzel wondering if the life she leads is a happy one.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for possible violence and sexual scenes, along with general Joker antics.

A crash woke Harleen Quinzel from her shallow slumber.

She sat up with a jolt from her splayed out position on the sofa, papers sliding from her lap onto the floor. There was a groan that slipped from between her lips as she sat up straighter and held a hand to her head; creases littered her face as she realised the crash had been from a thunder storm in the Gotham sky.

It was dark outside unlike when she'd last remembered being awake - the sky was that deep shade of smog red signalling dusk or dawn - and the clock read eleven-fifteen pm. She wasn't quite sure when she had drifted off but it hadn't done her much good as her head was banging and a grogginess cursed her mind. Her foot collided gently with cold glass. There was a titter as it was knocked over and she peered over the edge of the sofa to see it was an empty bottle of red wine. Cheap and had been full only a couple of days ago, likely the cause of her current condition.

She wasn't usually a drinker but she'd found the past couple of months that those lonely nights at her apartment passed so much quicker with alcohol. No longer was she going out to social events with old friends or dates, her work consumed all of her energy. This gave her little free time outside of work, albeit even then she was wasting time waiting to get back to work. It was pitiful really, twenty six years old and already washed up.

Her attention now turned to the papers that had fallen from her onto the carpet in an ugly pile face down. With a lowered brow she used both hands to gather the notes into a much neater collection. Rotating them over she noted that they were various archives from her patient's numerous files, however she had already known that, it was the reason she had snuck them home from the asylum record's office in the first place.

They contained briefings from his past doctors recorded in transcript which she first read through as a fresh faced doctor, hoping to gain some insight on the patient she was going to be given soon. Five months later and she now read them as something to laugh at; she noted how quickly Mr J had gotten rid of them and just how special she really was.

_Mr J._.. that had been a pet name she'd used in a session by accident and he'd taken a charm to it. Her favourite patient, the Joker, was one of the most dangerous men on this side on the East Coast and was infamous throughout the rest of the States, yet here she was giving him pet names like that. It was strange but the Joker she'd encountered in sessions had been coarse and sly, yet incredibly charming. She could count the times he'd raised his voice or threatened her on one hand which was incredibly for someone like him. A murderer; a **terrorist**. He had talked to her like an old friend despite their vast difference in generations and lifestyles.

He'd hardly shown any violent behaviour in the five months she had been treating him as his head psychologist, and people had noticed. Her peers paid her a trifle more respect which still wasn't much but it didn't matter - she felt successful despite their praise.

Of course that had come crumbling down after he had escaped from Arkham three days ago. Suddenly she wasn't being recognised for _taming the beast_ , she was being whispered about, and " _why did anyone trust the girl to know what's best for him" "did you know that he was only chained down by his ankles, what did she expect would happen?_ " was only the least of it. Her trust and his cooperation was now perceived as naïvety and anyone that had congratulated her swore they'd had doubts the whole time. It wasn't enough for him to be taken from her as a patient as he'd escaped from his cell in the night and not during session hours. Dr Arkham however did demand that he be fully restrained and stripped of privileges _permanently_ when he returned. Therefore there was no way she would be able to sneak her patient's restrictions down with the promise of progress. Her heart would break to see him tied up in that straight jacket and those chains like the very first session, if not for his discomfort then for the representation that really nothing had progressed in five months.

Well... she could claim that some things had changed in five months. For one, she liked to think that she wasn't the same young doctor that had walked into Arkham fresh from college, that she had formed a connection with her patients here. She could tell that she had had a positive effect on her previous patients, if only she could tell with Mr J. He was still such a mystery.

She ran a finger over the pointed corners of the sheets of paper, each of differing age and wear, until she reached a familiar one. The corner was wrinkled and no longer bright fresh-print white. A gentle tug at it pulled it from the collection and her eyes roamed it hungrily; it was a mugshot taken almost seven years ago and one that she had seen plenty a time plastered on the board of her university classes, as well as on the news. Joker had several mugshots but this was his first, the first that rocked Gotham and terrified families as they tuned in to GCN. He had been caught robbing banks, a far cry from his modern day crimes, and the mugshot showed it.

His hair was dark green and slicked back with brylcreem which presented his long angular alabaster features proudly, which were covered in small lacerations and welts sustained in his capture. The most notable feature was his comically large ruby lipped smile, which revealed a broken crown and chipped front tooth. He had told her once before that he hated the picture as there was nothing uglier than a messed up smile.

There was a more up to date mugshot that she had located in the much newer records and had also swiped for her own amusement. In this - which she located from the back of the brown file by her hip - she gazed over his older face, the white skin now lined with wrinkles where he so often was animated. She much preferred this one and how his hair was now a tousle of seaweed green, strangely well kept whilst still remaining messy. This picture had been taken mere months before she had began treating him. His presence in this picture almost made the first feel like a Halloween costume - his eyes were brighter and more vivid in expression, his face twisted into one of dark pleasure which felt as if it could leap out even through a picture. At first she had been disturbed by it, but now she contemplated hanging it up on her bedroom mirror.

She frowned. If there was doubt that she had changed Mr J, then there was certainty that he had changed her. For the worse or for the better she couldn't decide. For now she hesitated and left the newer mugshot along with the old one in the pile, which then slotted back into place in the large brown file that sat beside her.

The pounding in her temples resumed as she lost her focus on her patient. With a groan she rose from her seat on the worn grey sofa, kicked on her fluffy pink bunny slippers and moved sluggishly across the small apartment to her bathroom. It had been dim in the room she had just emerged from and so flicking on the light switch meant she was temporarily blinded; she blinked the white spots out of her vision and rubbed her eyes once more as she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. Her searching hand closed around the bottle of aspirin.

It was a Friday and as she only had sessions with Joker on Fridays, she had done some notes for her other patients before going home early. It was partially a lie - as inappropriate as it was for a doctor like herself, she no longer had interest in her other patients. They were lower security patients: rapists and pedophiles, murderers with less than five bodies under their belt; they didn't take up much of her time but they were _oh so booooring_. At least in comparison to him.

She unscrewed the bottle and popped two small white pills into her palm. It wasn't such a great idea after drinking wine only hours ago, but she could no longer feel the dozy effects of it and so she threw the pills into her mouth and swallowed them dry. Replacing the pill bottle in the cupboard she swung closed the mirrored door and came face to face with her reflection.

Her face was bare of makeup - she'd taken it off after returning from work, along with changing into more comfortable clothes. Without it her skin was pale and tired, bringing more attention that necessary to the large bags under her eyes from lack of proper sleep, along with the alcohol and stress.

The corners of her cupid bow mouth pointed downward in a hmph. She looked rough, but at least she could be comforted by the notion that no one would see her in this state.

There was a knock at the front door and her eyes widened. She wasn't expecting anyone and anyone that would need her like the asylum would have just called.

A deep exhale sounded through her nostrils. "One second!" she called, before she gave herself a once over. She'd thrown on an oversized red and yellow t shirt she'd gotten one Christmas that read _**World's Best Auntie**_ , along with black track pants. It wasn't the best she'd ever looked but it would do, she thought as she ran a quick hand through her messed up blonde hair.

She started toward the door in her slippers and opened it as far as the chain on it would allow. Peering around she could spot a tall thin man in some sort of uniform, standing just behind the door with something in his hands.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, her voice pitchy and slightly hoarse from being freshly woken up.

The man shifted in his clothes and kept his head low beneath his red cap. "Pizza delivery for uh... Harley Quinzel?" he prefaced, gesturing which she now understood to be a pizza box in his hands.

Her eyes lifted to the logo on his lapel and hat that read _**Carmine's**_ , the pizza place a couple of blocks away. She frowned - she hardly ever ordered food and she definitely hadn't ordered it tonight. Or had she? Maybe the wine had been playing with her memory.

"Sorry, I didn't order any pizza." she responded, her face crinkling at the nose.

He sighed. "Well it's for this address. Are you Harley?" he asked. His voice was a common Central American accent but there was something familiar in the way he spoke her name.

She chewed her lip. "Yeah that is me, but I didn't order pizza." she retorted rather shortly.

He frowned and she swore she spotted his top lip flicker in annoyance. "It's pre paid so it would make my job easier if you just took it." he replied with a hint of warning that she missed.

There was hesitation but she released a sigh and nodded. "Alright, gimme a moment." she replied at long last, before closing the door and removing the chain.

She then opened the door fully on its hinges and stared up at the man expectantly. Her hands moved forward to take the pizza from him however at the same moment he took a stride forward, knocking into her harshly. With an _eep_ she crashed backwards to the floor.

As she groaned, he bent over her and flashed his grin, a grin she knew so well. Her eyes widened like saucers as it clicked in her head, followed by his teasing laughter as his green eyes linked with hers.

The devilish eyes of the Clown Prince of Crime.


	2. Chapter 2

The most infamous man in Gotham had just turned up at her door.

Harleen was dumbstruck, struggling to find the effort to compose herself. She remained there on the ground as he straightened and locked the door behind him. He didn't offer her a helping hand in order to get up but instead stepped over her as if she were nothing, before placing the pizza box down on the coffee table.

Her lips parted as she watched him pace around her apartment. It was the shock of seeing him there, a dangerous criminal like himself along with the idea that there was no longer any panic button or guards that she could call if things turned nasty. There was also something strange mixed in with those feelings: anger that he had broken out and left her. Anger that he hadn't come to her apartment sooner.

He interrupted her thoughts with a tut. "I must say Harley-girl, this apartment is far too shabby for a girl like you. In the Narrows no less." he spoke, running a gloved finger over the crevices of her furniture.

She chewed her lip and used a hand to steady herself as she rose to her feet. "I'm on an intern salary... it's all I could afford." she replied quickly. Inwardly she cursed herself for the speed and clumsiness of her retort.

He scoffed, his eyes still not taking note of her.

Harleen approached the sofa near where he was roaming and clasped her hands together nervously to stifle the shaking. "W-what are you doing here?" she stammered, her voice weaker than she would have desired.

Her words caused him to stop in his tracks and instead rotated on his heel to face her. She now had his full attention and she took a sharp breath in, straightening in order to close the huge gap in height between the two of them. He was very tall, that was for sure, however his presence itself was daunting and made her feel like a speck of dust that he would surely step on without hesitation. Never before had she been this close to him without restraints, especially not without guards being present and she gnawed on her lip in preparation for his words.

His thin face was blank, his dark brow slightly lowered. "I came to see you, is that a crime, _Do **c**_?" he purred, clicking the c on his tongue.

Her heart was beating out of her chest not only that he was stood there in her apartment, but that he had come specifically for her. She must be special to him for him to bother to track her down and put on a disguise no less, she was tempted to run up to him and hold him in an embrace as she begged him never to leave her again. But she was a doctor - his doctor - and she couldn't ignore the issues with him being there.

"The whole city's looking for you, they can't find you here. We'll both get in trouble." she replied anxiously, crossing her arms together and breaking her gaze to look somewhere off to her right.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled mockingly to himself. "Are they now? What makes you think that they'll expect me to run to my dear shrink's house, hmm?" he asked teasingly.

She chewed her lip and turned to look at him briefly, albeit focusing her pupils on his smile rather that his eyes to avoid being trapped by them. "Y-you've been known to visit your doctors' houses to kill them in the past." she murmured in reply.

The grin that grew on his lips was not as large as the one she'd seen on the TV screen, but it was equally as dangerous. He took another step closer and closed the space between them with ease. His head tilted downwards to stare down at her, forcing hers to crane up awkwardly to meet his eye, afraid that not doing so would result in being caught off guard.

"Oh Harl, you insult me. Do you really think I'd put this much effort into you if you were just another statistic?" he purred, his eyelids lowered and she felt as if she was being sucked in, engulfed in those green orbs; she noticed now that there were purple specs contained in them and wondered how many had seen that and lived.

Her forehead creased and she bit her lip. "Well why did you come to see me then, Mr J?" she asked lightly.

A deep laugh slipped from his lips. "Can't a guy just miss a pretty girl?" he asked softly, grinning slyly at her.

Inside her chest her heart beat fast and swelled within her, heat swirling in her stomach and dropping down to between her thighs. Her breathing hitcher once again, her lips parted and her eyes grew larger as she stared up at him. She'd been complimented many a time especially by men - she wasn't unattractive after all - however whenever he paid her a compliment it made her head spin, as if she were nothing more than a school girl with a crush as unprofessional as it was. A pink flush broke out over her cheeks and nose.

In order to hide this from him she raised a hand to cover the redness as she tilted her head to the side. The gesture felt childish, as if she were back in high school however there was something about him that just made her feel so immature and inexperienced.

He had lived so freely in his limited lifetime and yet she was just a lowly doctor, barely scraping her thirties. The years she spent working her way up to her PhD were nothing compared to the life he lived on the daily, the excitement and people he must have encountered. Though here he was taking an interest in her.

It was unclear to her whether he had caught her blushing as he just as soon pulled away, walking toward the couch and throwing himself down on it. For the few following seconds Harleen felt frozen to the wooden floorboards under her slippered feet, albeit she took a sharp breath in and in a moment of impulsiveness, she traced his path. She hovered there by the arm of the couch. Her patient had noticed the files that he had clumsily sat on and was now lifting them onto his lap to observe what they were. As he began to finger through the contents, she clasped her hands together until the knuckles flooded with white, her brows meeting each other and knitting at the centre of her forehead. The way he slowly flipped from page to page was causing her stomach to turn. Her eyes drew to the large grin plastered on his smug face, as if he had already known what the file was before opening it, but seeing it confirmed what he had been thinking.

He crooked his head to the side to peer at her from underneath his dark green eyelashes. Those shamrock green eyes fixed on her and her knees were just as soon beginning to feel weak and unable to support her. To prevent her from fainting she leaned her behind on the arm of the couch, unwittingly bringing her closer to him.

" _Doctor Quinzel_ ," he purred, a twinkle in his eye. "You're a bad girl, bringing home sensitive documents like this. Why anyone would think you're a tad _obsessed_."

She gnawed at her lip once again. "I thought some extra insight into your case would help our sessions together." she murmured in reply, not giving the confident demeanour she wanted so badly to have in the situation. It was a lie of course, she'd being flicking through the pages because god forbid she'd missed seeing him over the three days he had been away from Arkham. Not that she would admit that to him.

He scoffed and allowed his eyes to roll down to the empty wine bottle on the floor. "I doubt the booze would have been very good for those thinking skills of yours, _Harleen_." he commented, with a hint of something darker in his tone.

Something about the way he spoke her full first name perturbed her, and she couldn't help the cringing that her face made as her brows crept lower. Her lips parted to allow words to slip past them, despite the lack of a sentence planned in her mind.

They were interrupted by the man's lean arm whipping out suddenly and fixing around her forearm, his grip like iron. Before she could react, he used more strength than seemed feasible for a man of his thin stature and sent her toppling over the arm of the couch towards him. As the world spun around her she finished laid on her back, pinned down by the Joker who now seemed to be on top of her. Her eyes widened as she took in what had just occurred, before they narrowed. She lifted her arms and began to try to pry him off her. It was useless she knew, however it helped her convince her brain that this was really not what she wanted, despite the pooling sensation between her legs that told her the opposite.

He watched her intently, not trying to do anything except take in the action of her beating his chest with her small fists. A grin laced his lips, and he exhaled with somewhat contentment.

"Harley, with all this struggling I'd think you'd forgotten the time we spent together in our last session." he teased, watching for a reaction.

Her face flushed red almost immediately. She hadn't forgotten, in fact it had been weighing very heavily on her mind for the last three days since he had left her sight. In the last few sessions she'd gotten comfortable crossing the marked yellow line in order to sit with him on the therapy couch, which she'd convinced herself was to make him feel more trusting with her. The last session however had involved her kissing him in a moment of weakness. He'd responded well, seizing her within the reach of his restraints and kissing her back; things had naturally progressed from there, to the point that he had taken her on the therapy couch. It had thrilled her, knowing that he was a dangerous man and that any moment the door could open and give the user full sight to what _definitely didn't class as therapy_.

Even in that situation she had control, she still had the panic button close by to alert the guards to her being in danger, and could always claim rape to free herself of charges. However here in her apartment she held no power, and could only stare up at the man pressing her down and formulate an answer.

"We shouldn't have done... what we did." she replied softly, her brows knitted together as her burning blush grew stronger.

One of his green eyebrows raised, as did the corner of his mouth. "What part of what we did could you mean, Harley-girl?" he prodded.

She was aware he was trying to embarrass her further, but lacked the strength to combat him on it. Nonetheless she scrunched up her nose and turned away. "Us... sleeping together." The woman spoke lightly and her mouth dried up as the words slipped out.

"Speak up, toots, I can't quite hear you."

Her teeth came down on her lip as her eyes began to water. Whipping her head back to look at him, she replied: "The sex! I-I can't- it was wrong, I'm your doctor I shouldn't-" Her sentences were broken and the effort of producing them sent tears spilling down her face, staining her face pink.

His face twisted into that of feigned hurt, the exaggerated pout contrasting with the amused glint in his eye. "Oh Doc, I feel used! Leading me on with a kiss only to say you regretted it..."

Her lip fell loose as her brows knitted closer. "I'm sorry, if you feel like I used you for your body then know I didn't mean it. It's just so unprofessional of me-"

The grin snapped back onto his face as a hand came up to grasp her face. "No Harley, I know you did mean it - I can see it in your eyes. You're so easy to read."

A pout formed on her lips. "Wh-whuh do you mean?" It was a stammer, deformed by his hold on her jaw.

He stared deeply into her eyes. "You've been of such great interest to me these so many months, doctor. Every day I learn a bit more about you, and I can accept that you're unlike any of the other doctors I've had before. One thing is for sure though - you're wearing one hell of a mask."

She looked back wide eyed in puzzlement, albeit didn't interrupt him.

"Y'see, you go around in this dull little world, performing the same deeds day in day out, hoping to find some meaning in your life. You're stuck in a job you haven't realised is dead end yet; you're hoping for the way out, that being fame: getting a book deal; selling out; making enough to be set for life and be comfortable enough to leave Arkham forever. But it'll never happen. I know that script you had for the tell all book on me hasn't been touched in weeks, Harl. That you're losing hope every time you walk into the staff room and watch them whisper horrible rumours about you. That you have no friends and that you haven't had contact with your family in years. That your day is so uneventful without me that you resort to drinking a full bottle of red wine on your own on a Friday night when everyone else is out having the time of their life. You're miserable."

Tears once again began to soak her face as she grasped his words. There was truth to them, she had nothing and no one outside of her work, and even there she wasn't taken seriously as a doctor. The blonde hair, athletic body and fresh out of college look gave everyone the idea she was just a bimbo, not even human, only put in the position Harleen had for a joke.

Or because she had slept her way there.

"How do you know all that?" Her voice was breaking and weak from the strain of her own emotions. She cursed herself inwardly for appearing so weak in front of a patient such as him.

His eyes were calm, a warm green that swirled in his head like an ocean of chemicals. They bore into her with such ferocity that she she lacked the energy to break away from them. "I told you, kid - I can see past the mask you've forced onto yourself. You're trying to fit in with the rest of this pathetic world by putting on a façade and it pains me because I see so much potential in you. When I had you during that intimacy you so badly want to forget, I finally saw you without the mask and you were smiling so hard..."

He gave a sigh and raised a hand to push back her loose blonde hair that had fallen over her face and become stuck with the tears. "And that's why you regret it so much. Not because you didn't want to do it, but because you finally realised your true self and that it doesn't fit in with everyone else.

You're just like me Harley, all you have to do is just admit it."


End file.
